


Pillow Talk of a Different Sort

by knightinpinkunderwear



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Coffee, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, French Kissing, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Insecurity, Intimacy, Kissing, Lube, M/M, Morning After, Neck Kissing, Non-Penetrative Sex, Not Canon Compliant, Past Relationship(s), Season/Series 01, Sex, Sex neutral asexuality, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: Dexter and Vince have sex for the first time, and in the morning, discuss intimacy.Based heavily on the events of s1e08 "Shrink Wrap"Requested by joji_is_trash
Relationships: Vince Masuka/Dexter Morgan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	Pillow Talk of a Different Sort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joji_is_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joji_is_trash/gifts).



> Narrated from Vince's point of view. 
> 
> Possibly OOC due to the fact they actually talk about things.

At the time it seemed like a wet-dream come (or cum) true.

Knocking at the door at almost 10 pm. A consistent pattern of fast raps against wood. Vince Masuka answered the door in pajamas with his gun cocked, safety off and ready. He didn't bother turning on a light.

His boyfriend was on the other side. Dexter Morgan, standing there for seemingly no rhyme or reason. Dexter, who _did not_ make late-night house visits without being called over explicitly.

Which Vince had considered never doing again. Especially after his rejection the night before.

 _"I came over because I thought something was wrong, tonight's not a good night,"_ and a few more excuses and the feeling that Dex was trying to avoid him. 

But Dexter had shown up on his own, face unreadable. Silent, standing in half-darkness still in the same clothes from work that day. 

"You alright?" He'd asked, snapping the safety back on and putting his gun down, feeling like an idiot for waving it around in the first place. Dexter took two steps inside from where he'd been leaning against the door frame. 

Then Dexter's hands were against his neck, cradling his face with a determined intensity in his eyes. And Dexter kissed him like he never had before, surging forward with an open and hungry mouth. Vince was very happy to reciprocate.

With open eyes despite the very passionate frenching, Dexter closed the door with one hand, and with his lips and body pushed Vince up against it. Then the hand on the door moved up his thigh to press against his bulge through his pajamas. And Vince had promptly shut off all higher brain function.

Vince pulled his boyfriend closer, eager to get his hands all over the taller man and get Dex's hand to keep doing what it was doing against the front of his pants. 

He vaguely registered that they were moving, walking as he nimbly unbuttoned his boyfriend's shirt, licking into his mouth and feeling canines and a tongue welcoming him with a greeting of its own.

By the time they got to his bed, they were both naked. And where all of their clothes happened to be discarded was a problem for Tomorrow Vince. 

Tonight Vince was preoccupied. Very preoccupied. With feeling a hot and bothered body against his and a tongue in his mouth. Or was his tongue in Dexter's? 

It didn't really matter either way. The feeling was still the same, hot, wet tongue against tongue and against teeth, hungry and curious. 

And Dex-posé was in his lap, straddling his thighs so that their torsos were almost flush. A sight now for Vince exclusively. He was mentally slapping himself for every time in past he'd referred to Morgan the sister as "the hot one" as he had been wrong. So very wrong.

Morgan the brother was the hot one, and better yet, he was here, in Vince Masuka's lap, naked and kissing him like the best wet-dream he'd never had.

The kiss broke, Dexter panting humid breath to the space between their faces as he did the same. 

His glasses were fogged up, and pressing into his face uncomfortablely from the force of the kissing. He pulled them up like one would a visor, pivoting them from their anchor points behind his ears and letting them rest on his bald head, safe and out of the way. 

Vince knew that his boyfriend cut a fine figure, but _hot damn,_ he needed to update his masturbation material. Reddish hair and pure Adonis, with a healthy dose of freckles and moles. Even though he had to squint a little to see the whole picture it sure was a nice picture to look at.

"What do I do? What do you want-?" Dex asked, voice breathy and still panting. 

"Just you,"

"Vince... pointers _please_ ," the taller and certainly more exasperated almost begged.

"Like this," he pulled the ginger closer on his lap, their dicks brushed and they both moaned. 

He showed his mildly inexperienced boyfriend just what to do, how to wrap his hand around two cocks and once and pull and twist them just so. 

The friction is good but a little too rough and agitating. 

"Wait, just let me-" He flopped himself down, reaching for lube on the night stand. Pulling off his glasses and setting them on the surface as a secondary thought. 

The lube was cold. Both a nasty and welcome shock that jolts him awake (not that he wasn't before).

Dexter wraps both of his hands around their erections, stroking, pulling sensitive skin together. 

Heat and sparks pull in his groin, like a snake, coiling and waiting for a quick release of everything pent up.

Vince kissed the crook of his neck, feeling the pulse and the breaths in and out taken passing beneath skin. He had one hand feeling up his sturdy chest, nipples, pecs, scar, et cetera. And one hand pulling him flush by the ass, fingers no doubt making indents where he gripped.

Then they were kissing again, real kissing. Liplock, tongues all up in each other's business, eyes open and gaze vaguely meeting under lids heavy with the fog of sex. 

Time is a strange limbo between fast and slow and all he could clearly remember after the fact was the warm wet feeling of panting into each other's mouths and the too good feeling of his boyfriend's hand and dick against him and sitting in his lap. 

Dexter wasn’t a screamer, not that he thought he would be. But having confrimation of the thought is so sweet. But not as sweet as the memory of the quiet breathy moans and shuddering of a body on top of and against him in climax. 

It took him a little more to get there, but he will chalk that up the learned endurance. The visual he has to pull him to completion is not like any other, and it was Dex's turn to press kisses into the pulse point on his throat. 

And that was his undoing. 

They collapsed together, legs entangled, sweaty and sticky and spent. 

Dex was sluggish and pliant, eyes half-lidded and dopey, but he did try to take over the clean up operation. Snatching and gently scrubbing with the damp washcloth to remove their mixed ejaculate, and Vince had no business feeling such a swelling of fondness in that moment.

* * *

Vince wakes first, pulls on his glasses. Surprised for a second as to why there was a naked boyfriend in his bed. But then he remembered.

He reached out, petting ginger hair that was flopped against one of his spare pillows.

It was real. Last night had been real. His boyfriend had shown up and they'd had sex. Dex wasn't avoiding him, he'd come over on his own. 

Vince smiled, probably one of those dopey lovesick smiles and not his normal perverse grin. 

He rolled out of bed, stretching enough for one shoulder to pop and some of the sleepy sluggishness to dissipate. Then he turned and bent to root around in the bedside drawer for clean underwear, after that came some shorts. 

He padded into the kitchen squinting at the brighter light situation and flipping on the espresso machine and perusing his collection for the smooth medium roast he'd bought the week before. 

He measured and placed the beans in the grinder on the finest setting and the machine started it's loud whirring and grinding. It was almost as loud as a blender, but such was the price for good coffee, and Vince was not about to commit to grinding beans by hand. There was only so much an un-caffeinated man was willing to do prior to caffeine. 

As the grinder did its work and the espresso machine warmed up, Vince tracked down his and his Romeo's clothes. 

Dex would need his own clothes, he was not exactly Vince-size, in neither height nor build. 

He padded back to the bedroom with the clothes mediocrity folded in his arms. 

Dexter was up, sitting on the edge of the bed, using the sheet to cover his groin, looking down at his hands where the rested by his knees.

"We should get some of your clothes over here for next time," the bald and bespectacled man said, setting down the boyfriend's clothes by the boyfriend and his into the hamper.

"Next time?" Dexter asked, sounding genuinely confused. Vince turned. Dexter wasn’t looking down in shyness or embarrassment for his brazen behavior the night before. He looked... sad... lost.

"I definitely want a next time, and a time after that, and after that," he spoke, rounding the corner of the bed to stand before the ginger, "What did you think, I'd fuck and dump you?"

"Yes," Dexter breathed, resigned and mournful, "I mean-" he started, trying to backtrack but Vince didn't let him. 

"Look at me; I really like you, you know that?" He asked.

Dexter looked up, face blank and eyes empty like he'd already had his heart carved out of his chest before. But this time he'd done it himself and was trying to hand Vince the bloody pieces because he _expected_ that Vince wanted to hurt him like that. 

"Why did you think I'd do that to you?" Vince probed, feeling quite sure that he did not want to know the answer.

"You wouldn't be the first," Dex said as if it wasn't absolutely horrible, and like he expected to be mistreated.

Vince Masuka was going to acquire the list of all his boyfriend's exes to defeat Scott Pilgram style.

"I didn't freak you out?"

"You are the most vanilla person I've slept with," he deadpanned, frankly, Vince is mildly insulted that Dexter even thought he needed to ask the question.

"Vanilla?" Dex repeated, furrowing his brow and Vince was going to worry about that on a later date.

"No, you didn't do anything sexually or otherwise to freak me out," he reassured, cupping Dex's face between his hands, "What did you think would freak me out?" 

"I'm not good with being vulnerable or with real intimacy, and-" he looked away, trying to lean away from the touch as if it would make telling the truth easier. Like he was distancing himself, like he thought his boyfriend would want to get away from him upon knowing the truth.

Vince was definitely going to find and harass whoever taught him that.

"And I don't really _get_ sex, I don't think about it and I don't get why everyone does all the time and-" he broke off, pulling on of Vince's hands away from his face by the wrist, holding it. Some balance between distancing himself and trying to hold him close. 

Vince doubted that he'd ever been this forthcoming in any other relationship he'd had. Something had taught him that his real thoughts and feelings were not as important as what was expected of him in a relationship as a man. 

"I didn't want you to see how damaged I am, because then you'd leave me, like everyone else,"

"Jesus Christ!"

"I'm sorry," Dex shrunk in on himself, his voice still that dead monotone he did when things got too intense. Dexter thought _he_ was the thing of outrage, not all the shit and people who fucked him up. _Fuck_. 

"Don't apologize, all of us have damage, and it isn't your fault that people have made yours worse, and I know that you don't feel like you fit in and that you try so much to do so, you even let me talk you into _the bowling team_. Dexter, I know who you are and I know a lot of what you want and why you want it," he twisted the arm in the ginger's grip so that he's holding onto Dexter's wrist as well. He brushed his thumb over the beauty mark/mole between his cheekbone and his ear. 

Hazel-green eyes meet his gaze, amazed that Vince somehow hasn't been scared away yet. 

"That's part of why I like you so much, I could tell I wasn't the only one putting up a show and trying so badly to fit in and belong," 

"Your mask," Dex confirmed, "I like that about you too, that I'm not the only on pretending," his voice is soft but it's recovering from that awful empty and numb tone from before. Life is bleeding back into him, and he looks more and more like the Dork King of Spatter that Vince knew and loved. 

"Yeah. Now let me be a good boyfriend and spoil you with coffee and toaster waffles," he let his usual daytime playful tone come back and take over any more honest emotional talks in one morning would make for two men very exhausted from the ordeal of letting oneself be known. 

Dexter grinned; "You're pampering me with toaster waffles?" he teased.

The comment was soon paid for with the sinful look Dexter gave him at the taste of the coffee.

Vince smirked proudly into his own espresso latte. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it :)


End file.
